La Caccia
by Saki Toyo
Summary: AU. Ciel Phantomhive, second-in-command of the Moretti family, gets approached by Detective Baron Stone when a series of murders are committed. See inside for extended summary & warnings. Chapter 1 up!
1. Prologue

Two stories in one day? My, my, aren't I quick? (Nawhh, I just wrote this a long time ago.)

This was a giftfic for my friend on LJ and in real life, Haru-chan. It's going to be...er, well. It will have mature themes, let's just leave it at that, ne?

Detective Stone is my OC (who I have an uncanny attachment to. hm.) He won't appear often, just here and there. Maybe I'll put him in another mystery fic. ^^  
_La Caccia_ is italian for "The Chase".

**Disclaimer:** If Saki-kyun owned Kuroshitsuji, then Ciel-kun would be in dresses a LOT more often. 3

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_La Caccia ~Prologue~_

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"No…no…please! Please! Don't do–GAHH!"

Red decorated the walls and ground of the dark alley as the helpless man sunk to the ground. His killer stood over him, bloody knife in hand. He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief, wiping the offensive liquid off his blade.

He took out his Swiss Army knife and knelt down. His eyes roamed over the corpse's body, settling on its large, hairy hand. With quick precision, he cut a circle into the flesh, followed by a five-point star. Blood slowly seeped through the professional cuts as he stood back up. The corpse's cold, dead, accusing eyes stared into his. '_Sorry,'_ he thought, '_I can only feel sentiments for one person, and it's not you.'_

**xXXXXx**

A small pub stood on the corner of a secluded street, situated on the outskirts of Vegas. Nobody ever visits the borders of Vegas – away from the lights, money and sex that attract so many tourists every year. That's what makes it such a hot spot for organized crime groups to build their headquarters.

Now, this small pub that we're talking about isn't really a pub. Of course, it is one on the outside, but certain individuals know that it's where the Mafioso of Las Vegas gather to exchange information.

Smoke wafted around the room, making the handsome young man sitting in the corner cough. He was never one who enjoyed cigars or cigarettes, and in fact he quite disliked the things. He coughed again, pulling down his hat.

The bell jingled, and a few people looked up. In walked Detective Baron Stone, a gruff-looking man in his late thirties. He had the collar of his coat pulled up. Scanning the room, he saw the man in the corner glance up from under his hat. They gave each other the slightest, almost imperceptible nod.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stone."

"Hn," was the reply. Not wasting any time, the detective slipped a manila folder to his younger counterpart. Although he had been here many times before, he still felt uncomfortable in this joint. It gave him the creeps, especially when he knew that half of the people in here would probably kill him the minute they found out he was a cop. He hated this part of the job. And the fact that sometimes, even the police had to go to the Mob for help.

He watched his companion look through the folder, patiently waiting for him to finish. The young man sitting across from him would be considered handsome among his peers. He was not muscle-bound; no, rather he had a soft, almost feminine frame. Detective Stone wondered how he got involved with all the thugs taking part in organized crime, and more importantly, how he survived in that danger-filled business.

"Detective," he spoke, voice low, "Why are you asking us to help you with this? I thought that you cannot participate in a case you have connections with."

The detective hesitated, trying to think of the right words to say. It didn't look like it, but he knew that the person sitting across from him was probably the most dangerous man in the pub. How silly it must seem: a thirty-something year old man afraid of a mere twenty-year-old _boy_.

"That's only the rule for…us. You…you are the _Mafia._ The rules don't apply to you." He paused, and his companion gave a nod, signalling that he should continue. "We—the police have done everything in their power. A-and I was thinking…it would interest you, because it _concerns_ you. And, uh, even if you don't want to accept this case when I'm asking on behalf of the LVPD, would you say yes if it was a favour for a, er…friend?" He mentally winced at the last word, hoping he wouldn't regret it.

"Hmm." The young man seemed to be contemplating the offer. "Elaborate on this 'branding' the killer does."

"The killer always leaves a mark on the corpse—his signature, I guess you could say. There's nothing very specific about it, some are larger than others, and they were found on different places on the body. Always somewhere you could see it, though. Most of the time he uses a switchblade—probably a Swiss Army knife, since those are so common—to cut it in the flesh; but if there's a fire or something hot nearby, he uses an actual iron branding tool. Like the ones farmers use to brand cattle.

"The actual brand is most likely something you've seen before: I mean, most people these days have. It's Satan's symbol, a five-point star inside a circle." The detective thought he saw the young man's eyes light up with interest, and that gave him confidence to keep going. "This isn't the first time we've seen it. This murderer has shown up lots of times in the past, and he's killed an unknown number of people. We believe he's an assassin-for-hire. His victims don't have anything in common except for the mark he leaves. Because of said mark, we've named him—or, more accurately, the _newspapers_ have named him—"

"The Devil," his companion finished.

Detective Baron Stone had never been more terrified of anything in his life. His young companion was furious, he could tell. His eyes were flaring, as if emblazing black flames surrounded him. The way he spoke was strained. Detective Stone had no doubt the seemingly harmless man in front of him could destroy the entire building—hell, the entire _street,_ right then and there. (How, though, he had no idea.)

"_Non ti preoccupare_, I'll take the case, _friend_."

That was the power of Ciel Phantomhive.

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_Non ti preoccupare_ = Don't worry


	2. Capitolo Uno

**Summary:** In a cold, dark alley, a man gets murdered. His killer unfeelingly cuts a five-point star surrounded by a circle in his hand. Later, Detective Baron Stone meets Ciel Phantomhive in a secluded pub, where he asks the Mafiosi to help the LVPD with a murder case. They are looking for an assassin-for-hire who brands his victims with Satan's symbol: The Devil.

**Warning: **There is, indeed, a LEMON here. If you'd like, you can skip that. And...I shall tell you what happens at the end. *points at the bottom of the page*

**Disclaimer:** Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso. Lucky lady.

**A/N: **The rating has gone up to M. This is my first lemon...be warned. I...I feel really dirty now. I can't even read it anymore...*cries*

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**Capitolo Uno**

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The sun beat down outside the air-conditioned high-rise where Ciel Phantomhive and the Queen spoke. The Queen was the female (yes, _female_) head of the Moretti family. When Ciel tried to cheat her out of her money in a poker game at a casino, she said "I like your moxie, kid" and adopted him into the family. Slowly, she coaxed his painful past out of him and since then, she thinks of him as her son. Now, he is second-in-command and takes care of their most important jobs. He is also the only one who has ever seen the Queen in person (knowing that she is, in fact, the head of a Mafia family). At this moment, Ciel Phantomhive was trying to convince the Queen that they should take the Devil case.

"Lately, a large number of individuals—including some Moretti Mafioso—have been murdered. The body count is currently…seventeen…but the LVPD suspect that there are more corpses that haven't been found.

"His MO is hard to place: some of the bodies have been moved to a secondary crime scene, others are left where they are murdered. The victims are all of different ages, genders, and races. Moreover, there is no common social status: some were poor, like prostitutes, some were working middle-class, and there were even a couple of rich connoisseurs that were killed. So, we can tell that he doesn't have a specific aversion or attraction to any type of person.

"The methods he used to off his victims are all over the place. Apparently, his favourite method is a clean shot either to the heart or to the head, but other CODs include strangulation, poisoning with a variety of chemicals, stab wounds and slit throats.

"However…the police believe that this is the work of a certain assassin-for-hire. All the bodies are branded with a…specific pattern, although the location and size of this mark seems to differ with each victim. Nevertheless, it is always found on a place where it can be seen without having to remove any clothing."

Ciel paused, apparently debating whether or not to continue. The Queen studied him curiously, wondering what was holding the boy back. She decided to prompt him, something she rarely did. "What was the pattern, Ciel?"

"Ah, it was a…five-pointed star inside a circle—Satan's symbol. And…because of this certain signature, the police have named him…The Devil."

She saw anger flare in his eyes as he spat out the assassin's name. And suddenly, she knew why he had been so reluctant to release this information to her.

"You're not taking the case," she stated firmly.

"But—"

"I know what you're thinking, Ciel. Don't you dare try to do this without my consent, or I'll have the entire family _and_ the police on your tail."

"You don't understand! I _have_ to do this!"

"Ciel—"

"_Please!_ After all these years, there's finally a clue to where he is! I finally have a chance of getting answers…the answers to the questions I've been asking since that day…ten years ago. Please…you have to let me do this…" he ended with a sob.

The Queen was distressed. She didn't want her beloved son to get hurt, but she wanted those answers as much as he did. With reluctance, she finally said "Fine. You can do it. But Ciel—you have to promise me—_promise—_that you'll take caution. Don't get hurt."

"Thank you…_Grazie, mamma…_I promise that I'll come back to you unscathed. _E 'una promessa._"

Ciel gave her a kiss and left the room. She stared at his retreating back as he walked away, wondering if she made the right choice.

"You'd better keep that promise, Ciel. Your obsession with him might get you killed."

xXXXXXx

Ciel left the building with a straight face on, but a trained eye could see that he was incredibly angry. One might think that, because of this unadultered rage, his guard will come down; but in fact, it is the opposite. He was more cautious than normal—and with good reason. Unwanted memories of his past resurfaced with every step he took.

_Ciel was thirsty. That idiotic maid was asleep, so he had to force himself out of bed and walk through the empty halls to get to the kitchen. The walk seemed longer than it really was. The portraits of the previous Phantomhive heads loomed over him—a reminder of the future he was expected to have._

_The glasses clinked against each other as the boy removed one from the neat stack. He turned on the tap to fill the glass. As he washed the cup and put it back on the tray, he was vaguely aware of something that sounded like a muffled bang. However, he just put it off as his imagination and started on the journey back to his room._

"_Oof."_

_It wasn't long until he bumped into a black-clad man. Ciel stared up at him cautiously. There was something off about the man, but he just couldn't place it. He wondered why he was here._

"_Who are you?"_

_There was a moment's hesitation before the reply. "I'm...a new servant. You shouldn't be wandering the halls at this hour, young master. Please go back to sleep."_

_With that, he picked up the boy and carried him back to his bed. He tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead._

"_Sleep well, young master."_

_For a second, Ciel's cheeks flared. Kissing him was unthinkable! It was a violation of privacy!_

It wasn't until the next morning when Ciel found out that his parents were dead. Murdered, they told him—two gunshot wounds to the head and a brand on each of their shoulders. For a while, the police were supposedly hot on the trail of the killer. It looked like a Mafia hit. Then, all of a sudden, all investigations stopped. Ciel had seethed for days, quite often insulting the police's intelligence and effort. It must have been peculiar, seeing a mere ten-year-old boy lashing insults at England's best.

The Ciel back then had remembered that mysterious man he bumped into that night. He knew that was the killer, and vowed to take revenge if he ever saw the man again. He trained himself in the martial arts, even going so far as to learn how to use a sword _and_ a gun. Yes, Ciel was an excellent fighter—his skills hadn't diminished in the years he'd joined the Mafia. He was always prepared to kill the man who took away his family.

_Because he was a minor, Ciel was sent to live with his aunt, Madame Red. He had lived in her house for five years, and was finally getting used to the slight differences between the Phantomhive mansion and his new "home". It wasn't as if the two were estranged. In fact, Madame Red rather spoiled Ciel._

_Madame Red gave Ciel his sixteenth birthday present one day early. It was a beautiful handgun with the Phantomhive crest on the side. Ciel had been elated to receive it. Of course, he didn't show that, simply replying with a polite "Thank you." He kept the gun under his pillow._

_He woke up to a horrifying shriek. It cut off abruptly. He grabbed his gun and ran to her room, prepared to face off whoever dared to hurt her. But when he got to the doorway, he froze._

_The same dark-clad figure he saw five years ago was standing at his aunt's bed. He turned, and Ciel saw the man's eyes: dark, unfeeling, _dead._ His heart beat faster, and he could feel the adrenaline rush coming on. But he kept his temper in check, speaking slowly. Cautiously._

"_You," he seethed._

_That one word held five years worth of anger. He brought his arm up to the man's chest, taking aim. He had no doubt that he would hit his target._

"_Why, hello again, Ciel."_

_A second of shock; uneasiness. Then Ciel took aim again, steadying his hand. The man seemed unfazed, and continued to speak. He had a teasing edge to his voice._

"_How have you been?" He took a step forward, speaking as if they were old friends. _

_Their eyes locked together, unflinching. Ciel frowned. The bastard was enjoying this._

"_It's been what—five years, I think, since I've last seen you."_

_Another step._

"_You've grown _so_ much!"_

_Step._

"_It's so nice to finally see you again."_

_And all of a sudden, they were a hair's breadth apart. The next thing Ciel knew, he was pinned to the wall, gun knocked halfway across the room, and the stranger's lips were crushed against his. He struggled, trying to get away, but the larger man's grip was too tight. _

_The lips left his mouth just long enough for him to scream "You bastard!" before they were captured again. The kiss was rough, unloving, dominating. The other's tongue slipped into his mouth, exploring the hot cavern, before leaving altogether to nip at his neck._

"_Get off me!"_

_The man stopped his ministrations to stare directly into Ciel's eyes and say, "Shut up." Which worked effectively. The look in the man's eyes left no room for argument._

_Ciel whimpered despite himself when he felt the mouth on his neck again. The stranger kissed his way up to the side of Ciel's neck and bit down roughly, drawing blood. He smirked when he heard his captive gasp. His free hand moved down; lower, lower, slipping under Ciel's shirt. He trailed butterfly kisses down to the young man's chest, pausing at the perk nipple and giving it a tentative lick._

"_D-Damn y-you…!" Ciel's words came out in a strangled gasp._

_He chuckled. "You like this, don't you?"_

"_F-Fuck…"_

_He let Ciel drop to the floor. The boy didn't even try to resist, but just to be safe, he swiftly removed Ciel's nightshirt and tied it around his arms before straddling him. He bent down to kiss Ciel chastely while moving his hand down to Ciel's crotch, smirking again when he felt the not-so-subtle bump._

_With inhuman speed, he pulled Ciel's pants and boxers down in one swift movement. Ciel hissed at the cold air, and then bit back a moan as he felt his captor's tongue on his hardening member._

"_A-ah! Hah…No…d-don't…!" _

_The older man smirked. He gave Ciel's length a long, hot lick before taking the entire thing in his mouth. Ciel bit back a moan as his captor's fingers brushed over his slit._

"_B-Bloody—!"_

_The next thing he knew, the man's mouth was gone and his fingers were replaced by something much larger. He felt a sharp pain as the man pushed into him, screaming at the top of his voice. The man didn't wait for him to adjust, pounding into him relentlessly. Ciel thrashed around violently until his captor pinned him down and kissed him roughly again._

"_Hah…hah…"_

_Ciel reached his climax, spilling his seed over their stomachs. The man came inside him, marking Ciel as his own. He pulled out of the boy and walked to his suitcase, pulling out a metal rod. _

_Ciel could only watch through half-lidded eyes as he was branded with The Devil's insignia._

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**A/N:** So if you are an innocent soul (like I /used/ to be), you'll have skipped the lemon. What you basically need to know is that Ciel was raped by The Devil at the age of fifteen and, at the same time, branded with The Devil's insignia on his...right eye, I think.

I...need to go shower now.

*shouts back while running to bathroom*  
Reviews and ConCrit are appreciated!

(And I love cookies, too~! Nyo ish a cookie monster. :3)


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